


Our Wounds that Heal By Inches

by ParadifeLoft



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aromantic Character(s), F/F, F/M, LGBTQ Character(s) of Color, M/M, Politics, Polyamory, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadifeLoft/pseuds/ParadifeLoft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curufin's relationships, before and after he is re-embodied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is less of a single fic, per se, and more of two narratively/thematically intertwined explorations of a topic intended to go together.  
> The backdrop/setting for these pieces is a shared enterprise with [Calima](http://archiveofourown.org/users/calima) affectionately termed the "Invasion AU"; basically, a divergence from regular Legendarium canon wherein Ar-Adunakhor launches an invasion of Aman during his lifetime, with the aid of certain disgruntled portions of the Noldor currently living there. A large portion of Feanorian-aligned Noldor were additionally re-embodied during the preparation for the invasion, also.  
> This version of Adunakhor (i.e. Azulzir, his birth name rather than the one he adopts upon ascending the throne) and his wife, Arosse, also more-or-less belong(?) to Calima and can be read about in more detail [here](http://an-animal-imagined-by-poe.tumblr.com/tagged/best+aduna+royal+family/chrono).

_Curufinwe and his wife_.

Words that stifled and choked at his fea like burning fumes in the forge, whenever he heard them. They were other people's words, words that wanted him to perform for them, this gesture and this emotion all adding up into something he _should_ have, but didn't.

( _He performed so much already_ , some tired, bitter thought prodded upward beneath layers designed to smother. _Leave him alone, just for once_.)

Curufinwe had no talent for osanwe but that lack almost seemed to vanish, with Ahtarme's arm linked around his, noblemen and clan leaders and artisans and servants with their eyes all on them and their evaluations so palpable. He wished to rip the thoughts right out of their mind, extract them with the point of his finest knife, consign them to the fires.

 _Of course I shall marry for you, Atar_ , he'd thought, he'd acted, over a year ago now - his eyes had been for only that aspect. Only one person's thoughts. And those held no sting or smoke - but he'd forgotten the gazes of others.

They were impossible to ignore now. Better he might have married only to his father's eyes, rather than before all of the Noldor's.

"Curufinwe! You must introduce me to your wife," he heard then, from one of his grandfather's friends. He turned, and forced a smile to his face.

 

\----

 

Hyellinde's yawn brought movement back to the stillness of the air, and a ray of the dimming sunlight from the window shone a rich brown on her skin as she stirred from the comforts of their bed.

A moment later, Curufinwe followed her, combing disarrayed hair back into some semblance of order with his fingers. He leaned over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades, then raised his brows in a gesture of innocence when Hyellinde turned to look back at him, unimpressed eyes belied by the hint of a smirk on her lips.

"Don't expect me to lie here with you all day; I still need to have my hair and clothes dressed to see Lady Finduilasse tonight."

Curufinwe gave a distinct sigh, then pulled away and sat up fully himself. "And I must meet with my brother regarding the hawks, yes." He stood, slipping his morning gown on as Hyellinde did the same.

He watched, quietly, as she reached to push her hair off her neck, and fastened a chain-clasp around it. The ring pendant he'd made sat framed inside the V of fabric, between her breasts.

"Hm. You're smiling," Hyellinde murmured.

Curufinwe shook his head, even as he noticed it himself, faint but certainly there. "It's no matter," he replied, looking away slightly. But he did not will the expression away, even so.


	2. Chapter 2

As Curufinwe had come to expect, the king and queen were quite thoroughly wrapped around each other when they arrived.

It was an interesting feature of the pair that he’d noted, soon after the situation had become more normalised, more political and less military - rarely did they accompany each other without such demonstrative behaviour, whether to a social function or a matter of state. One’s perogative, Curufinwe supposed, when you’d reached power enough to launch a successful invasion of the Blessed Realm.

Even the monarchs of Anadune, Umbar, and the New Western Territories , however, needed to bow to physics; and with the doors to Hyellinde’s townhouse no wider than any of the others in the older parts of Tirion, they were forced to unlink their twined arms as they stepped across the doorway into the sitting room. Curufinwe exchanged pleasantries with the pair of them as they unlaced their boots; by the time they’d exchanged them for slippers, Hyellinde had arrived to welcome them properly. And the queen had joined herself back to Azulzir’s side even as she sunk into a gracious curtsey, thanking Hyellinde for her hospitality.

Occasionally when Curufinwe felt like amusing himself, he thought of the reaction he’d likely get if he were to mention to Azulzir how charmingly _elven_ of a couple they seemed - a scowl complete with wrinkled nose, a sneer shaped by actual irritation, a muttered _I’ll show you exactly how_ elvish _I am in my relationships, arrogant_ eleda. (Sometimes his imagination continued, to a kiss demonstrating precisely Azulzir’s point - _ah yes look I am exceedingly exclusive_ \- but he should not go too far past the point of an easily controlled expression.)

As his thoughts drifted back to his exterior surroundings, the four of them took their semi-practised places at Hyellinde’s table, already heaped with steaming plates and pots of the new dishes she’d instructed her servants to learn for the evening. Curufinwe could tell Azulzir’s appreciation from the subtle flicker in his expression; Arosse was more direct, with a distinctly honest (if begrudging - it was always begrudging, between them) compliment to Hyellinde for the thought and execution.

“I did ask my sister if she had any recommendations,” was Hyellinde’s gracious (and barbed) reply; and then came the smile that always made her look as though she were ten steps ahead of you whenever she felt like it. Arosse gave an irritated flick of her expression (one that, with its frequency of used, managed to thankfully dispose of the thoroughly saccharine impression her features would otherwise have); Azulzir tried to hide a short laugh before he sobered, collecting himself and looking up at the pair of them sitting opposite.

“I do bring official matters to discuss, unfortunately,” he said. He placed his hands, clasped, on the table in front of him; Curufinwe could hear the cadence of his voice change slightly. It was something that always happened when he switched topics, even when they were only speaking privately like this.

“My staff and I have had… petitions, you see, from some of the Umbarans, who wish to emigrate and settle towns here in Aman just as our Aduna families have. Which I would grant, save for the… obvious issues. Which, despite their nature as a metaphysical constraint rather than a choice I have made, would pose a political threat that my detractors would simply love to tear me apart for, as it would be _clearly_ the opposite of the panhuman solidarity I have thusfar advocated…”

He tilted his head, frowning in thought. Curufinwe raised an eyebrow. “You want a solution to the problem of mortal decay in Aman,” he guessed.

“It would be ideal,” Azulzir conceded. He did look a bit pained – still, Curufinwe assumed, less than thrilled with the notion of asking elves for help _en masse_. Not that he could blame him.

Hyellinde cut a bite of the lamb from her plate. “I shall speak with representatives from the ritualist guilds on the matter, then.”

“And I my father – Atar and his colleagues should have some thoughts, I’m certain.”

With a look at her husband and a brush of her hand to his, Arosse sighed. “Very well, and I suppose you’ll consider this you being entirely correct here?” she asked icily.

Azulzir went quiet. A bubble encasing himself and Arosse, separating them from the other two, seemed to have come into existence in the space between an eye’s blink. “It’s not that of a sudden I have a wholehearted trust for them all, ‘Rosse,” he murmured.

That didn’t stop her lips from pursing. “We’ve our own scientists, if you’ve forgotten, buried in all your awe for Feanor’s things - “

"You eat at this table just as I do," he said, a bit quick, a bit tight. From the corner of his eye, Curufinwe chanced a look at Hyellinde, who it seemed had done the same. Neither of them were much used to hearing such outbursts openly before them, he surmised.

"You eat at this table because adaptation is a mark of growth and survival," Azulzir continued; less sharp now but still strained. He gestured with one hand at the scene spread before them. "And you eat _our_ food here, made by Eldar well enough for you to give your compliments.” He inhaled slightly, looking down. “‘Rosse, please.”

Arosse looked away from both her husband and her hosts as well, cheeks reddened. It was hardly that Curufinwe should wish to admit such a thing, but - he had sympathy enough for her position, for once. His had been a similar one… And yet now here he was, acknowledging as much, if only to himself.

For all those thoughts, the silence heavy between them was broken first by Hyellinde - a resolution that did not surprise Curufinwe in the least. “None of us here intend aught but respect, Highness,” she stated; low, calm, melodiously soothing. “Though speaking personally - I should also like to mention my pleasure at your complimentary appraisal earlier.”

Arosse shifted to meet Hyellinde’s gaze then, for it was just as direct as her husband’s had been averted. Transforming her sandstone skin near to russet, she was now blushing even deeper than before.


End file.
